


Learning to Dance

by NohrianScum (OrderOfRevan)



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drinking, Ensemble Cast, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Original Female Characters - Freeform, Politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-08 02:38:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15233505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrderOfRevan/pseuds/NohrianScum
Summary: This year, the Peace Summit held between the countries every five years is to be held in Cyerkensia, the crowning jewel of the Night Gem, Nestra.This year, Crown Prince Xander of Nohr and High Prince Ryoma of Hoshido are the head of their nation's delegations.And this year, as chance (or perhaps fate?) would have it, the two share a dance in true Nestran fashion, for all those gathered to see.





	1. The Inagural Ball

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that everyone enjoys this story a great deal! 
> 
> Let me know what you think. :)

It was one of those unbearably hot evenings where the water only seemed to amplify all the ways in which his armor could kill him. 

He could overheat, of course. In this armor, it was always a given that he may very well be cooked alive, and with the press of bodies and the humidity of the Cyrkensian streets? That seemed more and more likely by the moment. Armor may protect against death blows on the battlefield, but it could be a detriment outside of the realm of war… Though it was, of course, necessary to appear intimidating. 

More worryingly, however, were the countless channels of water that served as Cyerkensia’s primary modes of long distance travel. Even a man that could swim might he killed in two feet of water in full plate, should he be unfortunate enough to land in it on his back… 

And he couldn’t swim. 

That was the primary reason he had always hated coming here, why he had found the incredible shows that his Father and the High Court praised as works of great art to be stressful affairs even as a child. There was very little that was actually enjoyable about a watery paradise when one did not like to be around water, when water was, in fact, perilous for that person. No amount of Nestran Culture could make up for the constant anxiety that his weakness would be revealed by a careless noblewoman or a reckless child who unbalanced him in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

Xander had no reason to believe he could have hated Cyerkensia more than he already did, of course. The city itself was beautiful and the people were always very generous, their food and their art galleries amongst the most famous in the entire world, that Xander could not deny, but… 

But this time, there was nothing to help him overlook the inevitability of hours a day trapped in a stuffy room with the Hoshidan delegation. 

“You look so gloomy,” Camilla said from beside him, her smile resplendent as he she looked out at the passersby, voice quiet enough that only he could possibly hear. “Cheer up, Xander -- Think of all the parties we’ll be able to attend while here.”

“You’re the one who enjoys those things. I have no idea why you think that… Of all things, would cheer me up,” he replied, keeping his eyes straight ahead, careful to watch Midnight’s traction on the slick stone. 

“Don’t you want to see your little sister happy?” she teased. “Come now, Xander. Your angry expression reflects poorly on all of Nohr, you know.”

“I don’t look angry,” Xander said, his grip on the reins tightening as their own small delegation made its way towards The Grand Muse Hotel on horseback, a parade to entertain the locals. “This is the expression I always wear.”

“That’s precisely the problem,” Camilla continued to chide him, though he could see a playful expression on her face from the corner of his eye. “Has it ever occured to you that you always look angry, dear?” 

He didn’t respond, attention drawn by flashes of white and red through the buildings as the street opened up into a massive plaza. Already, he knew what to expect, men and women in perfect rank and file, lead by a man in armor so ridiculous that there was no way it could be practical on a battlefield whatsoever. 

Of course, that’s if their armor was necessary at all, considering it was unlikely the Hoshidans had been involved in a real war in the past few hundred years. Father was constantly going on about how the Hoshidans had been so eager to sign his proposed peace treaty simply to avoid falling on Nohr’s blades in battle, though they were too proud to ever admit it. It left them with little more than their grandiose numbers as a show of strength and prosperity, though there would be no need for these sorts of events if they did anything more than brag about that wealth. 

And that was why Xander was here. 

Not the Nestran Opera Houses, not elegant dining by candlelight over the tranquil waters… 

He was here for Nohr, its Crown Prince, a representative while his father dealt with pressing domestic affairs, though his “domestic affairs” still tended to be banal, even with Queen Arete’s bringing an end to his infidelity. 

If it was as his Father said and he must be the one to lead Nohr’s charge into the future, then Xander would do just that without any hesitation. Even if it meant coming face to face with the man Camilla mockingly called his “childhood archrival”; Ryoma, High Prince of Hoshido.

At last, the Nohrian Delegation emerged into the West Plaza, greeted with cheers and shouts from the populace. The Nestran Royal colors of blue and white waved gently in the breeze, hung from every lamp post and in strings of banners between buildings, though the Grand Muse itself had been done up in the colors of every nation attending the summit. It stood proud above the other buildings, four stories of classical pillared Nestran architecture, far different from the sloped rooftops and shingles of Nohr, though he knew the change was due to climate.

This far south, there was very little snow save for that which fell in the mountains. 

“Announcing the Nohrian Delegation,” a voice boomed across the cobblestones, “lead by His Highness, Chosen of the Divine Blade Siegfried, Champion of the Battle of Blackwater Bridge, Blessed of the Rainbow Sage, Crown Prince Xander of Nohr.” 

Xander stroked Midnight’s neck gently as he straightened his spine and tried to relax his face, leading his small company into full view of those gathered to see the arrival of Nohr and Hoshido’s  delegations. The other nations were relatively peaceful places, rich in natural resources, but neither had the manpower or the military infrastructure to represent the threat that Nohr and Hoshido did. It made Nohr and Hoshido vitally important to the stability of the land, and everyone clambored to win their support and loyalty during these summits, attempting to flatter them with fanfare and finery. 

Xander recalled it well from the last event five years ago, held in Izumo, the first event Father had ever had him attend as a participant, though his role had been primarily to observe. Now he was closer to thirty than twenty, and things looked quite different when he was the one in charge of the negotiations, when it was his arrival these people were lauding, and when it was his decisions that would shape the next half a decade. 

“Announcing the Hoshidan Delegation,” the same voice cried, Xander’s eyes drawn across the plaza to the banner-carrying, red-armored Hoshidans, “lead by the most exalted bearer of The Divine Blade Raijinto, High Prince Ryoma of Hoshido.” 

Xander waited until the High Prince had walked fully into view before he dismounted, taking his place beside the man as they walked up the steps towards the Grand Muse together. Behind him, he could hear Camilla’s heels snapping against the cobblestone and commanding attention, the heavy treads of Princess Hinoka nearly mirroring them in their ferocity alone. He concentrated on those sounds, and the shifting of his plate against his body, paying attention to the tempo of the High Prince’s steps so he never wavered or walked ahead of him, but refused to make eye contact until strictly necessary. 

Together, they halted on the penultimate step, looking up into the face of the woman before him, beautiful with streaks of silver in her dark brown hair, smiling warmly down at both of them. A half step behind her stood a slightly younger woman with hair the color of the leaves in autumn, her face ever so slightly more reserved, though she smiled in greeting as well. They were both dressed in finery that far surpassed the armor Xander and Ryoma wore, leaving Xander relieved that he’d allowed Camilla to pack the things he would need. 

He would hate to be underdressed in Cyerkensia, the cultural capital of the West. 

“Princes of Nohr and Hoshido,” the woman said, taking a step forward and holding out a hand to each of them. “Cyerkensia, and all of beautiful Nestra, welcome you to our wonderful home. We hope to usher in a new era of peace together, and that this summit will be even more productive than the last.” 

She beamed at them as Xander took her hand, taking the last few steps to stand by her side as she invited him to stand as her equal, though he was very much not. After all, this woman was comparable to the Archduke Izana in the length and prosperity of her reign, the Queen Francesca commanding her cultural paradise with the wisdom and grace of experience. Xander was but a Prince, not yet sovereign, and yet… 

“One hopes that your youth brings new perspective to old quarrels,” she said, releasing his hand as he stood at her side, Ryoma opposite him. “I think that the entire world could do with a bit of revival, and I am eager to hear your ideas come tomorrow, when the hard work begins. But for tonight?”

She clapped her hands together and a band began to play, strings singing into the night sky as she raised her hands high above her head, grinning from ear to ear, “let the celebration begin!” 

The Queen stepped away from them both, linking her fingers with that of the woman beside her before bringing her hand up to her lips and pressing a kiss to it with gentle affection in her eyes. She turned her gaze to the four of them but a moment later, her expression somewhat more reserved as she bowed her head in private greeting, “I don’t mean to stand so much on ceremony, but people expect a show, and as a former member of the Dancer’s Guild, I fully intend to give it to them.”

“It’s to be expected,” Prince Ryoma said in his calm, deep, voice, finally drawing Xander’s full attention as he bowed low before her, his sister mimicking his actions. “Thank you for your warm welcome.” 

“Hoshidians are always so charmingly formal,” the second woman said warmly. “I remember when I visited Queen Mikoto a few summers ago, before our wedding, and she made sure to thank me after every pleasantry.” 

The High Prince seemed primed to open his mouth, perhaps to thank her again, but the Queen cut him off, ushering the four of them forward with a wave of her head. “Shall we get you all inside so that you can change out of that armor? You must be terribly stuffy, and we can’t have you showing up to a ball looking like you just marched off a battlefield.”

They hardly looked like they had marched off a battlefield, Xander thought, grasping Siegfried’s hilt as he followed the Queen and her Lady Wife into the Grand Muse, the place far more crowded than Xander recalled it being. In fact, he was barely aware of anything happening for the next several moments as he was ushered away by several servants with promises of toasts at the ball, relaxing only when a key was thrust upon him and he was left nearly alone in a hallway with Camilla. 

For a moment, he simply breathed, turning towards her but a second later with a curt nod. “I suppose we part ways for now,” he said, earning himself a small smile.

“For now, but it won’t be for along. You do, after all, get your very own suite this time. I’m impressed, really,” her smile widened. “I hear that the Royal Suites in the Grand have baths large enough for entire groups of people and beds softer than the down on a chick. I’m sure you’ll be making plenty of use of it.”

“I’m not here to indulge in my hobbies, Camilla,” Xander said simply, fingering the key slowly, running his thumb over the intricate ridges and the single, blue gemstone on its handle. 

“Is that what we’re calling your conquests now, dearest? Your hobby?” Camilla laughed, leaving Xander to glower at her as she slowly stepped forward and placed both her hands ever so briefly on the side of his face.

For a moment she remained that way, staring into his eyes for long enough that he began to feel uncomfortable and averted his gaze. When he did, she finally drew away, though not before tugging his head forward to place a kiss against his forehead. “Try to at least enjoy yourself tonight, Xander,” she said softly, “gods know that you need to learn to unwind eventually.”

She winked at him as she turned around, pausing before she could push open the door to her own room, looking back at him over her shoulder, “or else I really will make you take up knitting.” 

Before he could respond, she disappeared into her room, leaving him to face the Royal Suite with a frown on his face. Sighing resignedly, he fit the key in the lock, turned it, and stepped inside to find all of the things he had brought were already neatly packed away, travel cases stacked in a corner. 

Running his hand through his hair, he stepped further inside, wondering what manner of Suite needed an antechamber and kitchenette as he stepped through an archway into the bedroom proper. Frankly, it was all a bit too extravagant for him, he thought, beginning to loosen the buckles on his armor as he looked around at the ornate carvings on the four post bed, and the expensive, tile backsplash underneath the richly painted walls. He was a man of steel and leather, a man who spent his time in horse stables and on the battlefield, who had dedicated his life to the practical aspects of ruling a country and guiding a people, leaving him baffled at what to do with all this… Frivolity. 

Father and his siblings would likely enjoy it, except perhaps Azura, but… 

Azura was much like him, in that regard. 

He supposed that was why he found her presence comforting. 

Time passed more slowly without the pomp and circumstance of greetings and ceremony, leaving Xander ample time to struggle out of his mail. He was certain he looked ridiculous, standing on one of the chairs, bent over to slide it off, but without a servant to help him, it was really the only option he had. With a thud, it fell onto the ground in a pile and he could work off the sweat-soaked undershirt beneath it, making him realize that he should likely take a bath. 

Idly, he wondered if Hoshidan armor was such a pain to remove as he shed the rest of his clothing and made his way to the large bath. 

As it turned out, Camilla had been right and it made Xander feel… Rather small, frankly. He was used to bathing himself in freezing streams or lakes, or using the tubs of magically heated and sterilized water that were widely available to the upper class back home. This was something entirely different, and once more he found himself missing his usual utilitarian methods of self care. 

When he finished, Xander made his way back into the room and simply sunk onto the bed, towel around his waist as he stared at the canopy above him. The entire room felt too empty and his hands felt unoccupied, not certain what to do with himself while he waited for his hair to finish drying, mind wandering through the possibilities. 

He wondered what it was that people usually did when they had free time to themselves, because as long as  he could remember he had always occupied himself with some task or another. If he wasn’t training, he was helping with the allocation of resources for the army, or he was in the field boosting morale and leading troops into battle, or he was dealing with trade agreements between Nohr and the other major powers on the continent. Sometimes, he would be resolving the issues Father had created between his lovers, though that was a thing of the past, or assisting Queen Arete with the diplomatic corp and addressing border disputes between Nohr and Hoshido. 

Without those things to occupy him, he honestly wondered what to do with his time. 

Would it be worse when he was finally King? 

After a while, there was a knock on his door and Xander jolted up, rummaging about for a fine pair of smallclothes and pants, managing to put them on just as a second knock sounded against the wood. Figuring it was Camilla, he pulled open the door only to be greeted with the High Prince of Hoshido, his blank expression flashing with amusement as he arched an eyebrow, staring up into Xander’s face. 

Already, he appeared to be dressed properly in his fine Hoshidian garments, robes fit only for royalty, the solar pattern upon the fabric intricate as it was garishly bright. There was an artistry to it that Xander appreciated, but it did very little to make him look less wild when his mane of dark auburn hair seemed barely restrained by the red ribbon tying it into a tight bun high atop his head. 

“Not ready yet, Prince Xander?” Prince Ryoma asked, the corner of his mouth lifting in a lopsided smile,“I suppose it takes awhile, with the absurdity of Nohrian clothing.”

The words were joking, but the tone was cold enough that it only served to remind Xander of all the times during childhood during which the younger man had outshone him in practically every way and seen fit to gloat about it. Setting his jaw, he drew up to his full height, realizing that he looked ridiculous while shirtless but seeing no other recourse, glad that he had grown to be as tall as his formidable father had been in his youth. 

It was the one way in which Xander had always been superior to Ryoma. 

“What are you doing here?” Xander asked, choosing to ignore the jab as he crossed his arms over his chest, hoping that his battle scars finally served a purpose other than aching on particularly cold nights. 

“I thought we could take Queen Francesca's words to heart, perhaps turn over a new leaf,” the Prince responded. “If we arrive together, it will give the impression of solidarity between our people.”

The  _ illusion _ of solidarity was what he meant, but in truth, Xander could find no good reason to argue with him over this. 

There were benefits to appearing at the same time, side by side, and of approaching the summit as if they were attempting to solve some old disputes between them. At the very least, it would force bargaining into Nohr’s favor for the first time in a very long time, and with the long winter months well on their way and the land not yet recovered from the Blight? 

That advantage was something Xander’s people sorely needed.

As their Crown Prince, he could not afford to deny the invitation, even if he hated the way Prince Ryoma was smiling up at him as if he’d won a bet. 

“Very well,” he acquiesced, “if you wait here, I’ll be with you in a moment. I simply need to finish getting ready.” 

He didn’t wait for an answer, shutting the door in the High Prince’s face. 

Slowly, he reached up, running a hand through his still damp hair and breathing out slowly. He would have to ask Camilla to help him dry it, he thought as he quickly stripped his pants back off to search for his garters and socks, brow furrowed intensely in concentration. Xander could ill-afford to think about anything other than the present moment right now, or his mind would begin to spiral out of control and he would find it difficult to function, so he placed all his attention on the task of dressing himself. 

Socks. Garters. Undershirt. Cravat. Pants. Waistcoat. Outer vest. Jacket. Boots. 

By the time he’d finished, the only thing left to worry about was his circlet, which he grasped firmly in his calloused hands, opening the door to find the High Prince still patiently waiting for him. For a moment, they simply stared at one another, neither saying anything, before Xander walked across the hall and rapped promptly on Camilla’s door. 

She opened it, clearly halfway through getting ready herself, taking one look at his hair before she sighed and motioned him forward. Slowly, Xander bowed his head, watching the way her hands moved through the air, elegant violet runes glowing along the band of her ring as warm air swept upwards, leaving his hair dry and voluminous. She reached out, taking the circlet from his hands to arrange it on his head before straightening his cravat, eyes only briefly straying towards the High Prince. 

“I suppose this means we won’t be going together?” Camilla asked, clearly amused. “Are you two going to dance?” 

Xander glowered at her, and she laughed, pulling her hands away. 

“We very well may have to,” he admitted reluctantly, “for the good of international diplomacy.”

“And now you sound like Queen Arete,” Camilla said, shaking her head from side to side. “Goodness knows the two of you spend far too much time together cooped up figuring out how to fix all of Nohr’s problems.” She sighed and leaned against the doorframe, Xander feeling a bit guilty for interrupting her beauty routine when she flipped a strand of her violet hair out of her face. “Tonight is about enjoying yourself, brother. I’d like to see you smile.” 

“I…” he began, but trailed off, realizing he couldn’t deny her insinuation that he didn’t smile, nor could he promise that he would. “I’ll make an attempt to find something I enjoy about the night,” he said at last.

It seemed to be enough, for now. 

“Good,” she said, pushing lightly at his chest with one hand, “now go, entertain the High Prince, and don’t forget to make conversation while you’re trying to solve the world’s problems.” 

“I will endeavour to do my best,” he said simply, offering her a reserved smile as he stepped back, the door shutting softly behind her. Smile vanishing, he turned swiftly back towards the High Prince, offering a stiff nod of his head, “shall we?” 

“I see no reason to wait,” the High Prince said with a curt nod of his head, and with that, the two of them walked on in silence. 

 

***

 

The moment they entered the ballroom, side by side, eyes were upon them. 

It wasn’t really surprising, of course. 

Xander wasn’t shocked by it in the slightest; not when Sumeragi and Garon had almost always made a point of trying to outdo one another. He still remembered well the last Summit in Izumo and how much of a show they’d made of descending the steps at different times, of trying to be as extravagant as possible, and of extending that extravagance to their heirs. Now that he really thought about it, Prince Ryoma’s tastes seemed to be much more understated than his father’s, all of the reckless confidence with a hint of something down-to-earth; something he never would have noticed if he hadn’t been comparing him to Sumeragi. 

Suffice to say, for Hoshido and Nohr to enter on equal footing, and at the same time, was unheard of, a gesture which shocked the room.

Because in spite of what Camilla said about the official work not beginning until tomorrow, they both knew that they had been playing the game from the second they’d set foot in Cyrkensia. 

Head held high, Xander counted the faces he recognized --

The Archduke, of course, smiling from ear to ear, who waved cheerily as they passed. 

Rinkah of the Fire Tribe, who scowled at him but nodded in acknowledgement towards Ryoma. 

Flora and Felicia of the Ice Tribe, one stoic, the other waving awkwardly at them both. 

Fuga of the Wind Tribe, who looked at them both with an expression disturbingly like knowing glinting in the eyes underneath his prominent brows. 

And of course, there was a delegation of Ninja, as well as representatives from the City State of Notre Sagesse. 

Five years ago, there had been those from Cheve in attendance as well, but the war had left them a principality of Nohr. 

It was a sore subject, one he knew that he would be judged harshly for by the members of the summit, one for which he expected backlash from both Notre Sagesse and the Ice Tribe. They feared Nohr, and did not understand the necessity of their actions, but Xander would answer for them. He had fought in that war, just as he had fought in the “war” Nohr had silently raged against itself for countless years. 

A war for which his people were mocked and derided. 

“Ah, Princes,” a familiar voice greeted, Queen Franchesca joining them, glass of some Cyerkensian vintage in her hand. “I must admit, I’m quite pleased to see you enter together. It does us all good to know Nohr and Hoshido are taking the summit so seriously.” 

Xander offered her a smile and a small bow, noting how her Lady Wife approached from nearby, reaching out for the Queen’s arm. As he straightened, he glanced between them, offering the Lady a nod of greeting. 

“Of course,” he said. “Nohr wishes to show that we value our peacetime bonds more than ever before, now that the unrest in the West has settled. Perhaps, by putting to bed our disagreements with Hoshido, we can show the spirit of our cooperation.” 

“An admirable stance,” the Queen agreed magnanimously, turning her gaze towards Prince Ryoma, who was straightening from a respectful Hoshidan bow. 

“I agree,” Ryoma said simply, his manner far more stern and formal than what Xander had grown used to. “Unrest stirs in the East, as well. It would do Hoshido good to put aside our disagreements with Nohr so that we may focus fully on the relational stability and prosperity of those nations we must share the land with.”

“Equally admirable,” she agreed, taking a step closer, her eyes darting between the two of them, “, but how willing are you to commit to the gesture?”

“... Commit?” Xander asked, his brow furrowing further as he looked down into the woman’s face, his back stiffening when she reached out to cradle one of his hands in both of her own. 

“Crown Prince Xander,” Queen Franchesca said with a smile on her lips, “you’re a good man, and you’re wise beyond your years. I know you must realize that people won’t believe Nohr and Hoshido are dedicated to a lasting peace from such a simple act.” 

Her words struck true and he took a deep breath, nodding, about to respond, though he was quickly silenced by the Lady Olivie, who had taken one of Prince Ryoma’s hands in her own. Xander very much did not like the look that passed between her and her Queen Wife, and from the disgruntled look on the High Prince’s face? 

Either did he. 

“You know, dance is a very important artform here in Cyrkensia and all across Nestra. If you wish to show your dedication to peace, the best way to demonstrate it to our people would be to share a dance,” Lady Olivie said with a beaming smile as she tugged the High Prince forward. “A dance is about to begin now, in fact, so it may well be your an excellent chance to further show your interests are mutuals. After all, dancing is a demonstration of partnership and cooperation like no other.” 

“Indeed it is,” Queen Francesca said as she pulled Xander towards Prince Ryoma, gently placing his hand atop the other man’s. “When I was just a girl, before the Guildsmen and women elected me as their Queen, I learned dance in the schools here in Cyrkensia. Much like swordplay, it can be a demonstration of sincere emotion.”

She looked between the two of them as she took her wife’s hand in her own, taking a careful step back, her own smile guarded, though delight danced in her eyes. 

Taking a breath, Xander intended to explain that dancing would be seen as a display of physical and romantic intimacy by the Nohrians in attendance, but the High Prince spoke before the words could leave his lips. 

“Very well.” 

_ Very well? _

Xander’s eyes immediately returned to the High Prince, who was staring at him with an intensely determined expression in his stormy green eyes, his jaw set, chin held high, as if daring Xander to defy him. It reminded him of all those times as a child when Ryoma had outshone him in competition in spite of being three years his junior, prompting comments from Nohrian onlookers about Xander’s inferiority, and in spite of knowing it was childish… 

He would not let himself be made a fool of by refusing now. 

Not even if he suspected the High Prince was attempting to manipulate him. 

“Yes,” Xander said as he swallowed his pride, “if it endears us to the summit… Then it will be done.” 

“Excellent,” the Queen said, her smile burning the side of Xander’s head. “Then we both look forward to seeing you on the floor. I’m very curious to see what your dance tells me.” 

She and her Lady linked arms and walked away, the trains of their long dresses sliding across the tiled floor, shimmering under the torchlight, and leaving Xander completely alone with High Prince Ryoma. Xander dropped his hand back to his side, staring into the other man’s face and biting back a bitter comment, determined to make the best of the situation they’d both found themselves in. If they were going to dance for the good of diplomatic relations, then they would dance for the good of diplomatic relations. 

“Shall we?” Ryoma asked, holding out his hand for Xander, his stern expression leaving Xander relieved that at least he had the courtesy not to look amused at this situation. 

Nodding curtly, Xander took his hand, feeling foolish as Ryoma lead him towards the dance floor, finding himself somewhat breathless to be the center of attention. All around him he could hear people muttering, their eyes as hot as brands and as cold as ice, though not a single pair was uninterested. It made him feel ill to think about all the things they might be thinking, certain that they thought Ryoma either merciful or a fool for trusting a clearly cruel and duplicitous Nohrian… Or showing pity, as the case may well be. 

“You follow,” Ryoma said quietly, Xander’s eyes narrowing as he reached to place his hand on the other man’s waist. 

“Not only am I taller … I’m more familiar with these kinds of dances,” Xander replied firmly, grasping Ryoma’s wrist tightly, watching the way the Samurai glared at him in what bordered on contempt. “I will lead.” 

The High Prince seemed prone to open his mouth and object, but instead he caught sight of the eyes upon them, as if noticing for the first time, and instead brought his hand to Xander’s shoulder. Relieved, Xander gingerly placed his hand against his unwilling partner’s waist, glad that he wasn’t going to make an issue of this publicly… And equally grateful when the music began to swell and he could turn his attention to something more productive than tending to his anxieties. 

Together, they began to move, Ryoma surprisingly heavy on his feet for someone he knew was so graceful in combat. Xander found himself focusing on simply ensuring Ryoma’s movements were as accurate as possible, but it seemed he would be having none of it and would not be lead. 

Several times, they fell out of tempo and Xander was forced to skip steps entirely to avoid making a complete scene rather than simply just making a fool of them both. It left him regretful that he had not allowed the High Prince to lead, because at least then he could have ensured the dance would have gone smoothly. Instead, they looked utterly foolish and ungraceful due to Ryoma’s uncooperative nature, his eyes not even on his partner, focusing instead on the people around them. 

Fighting the urge to simply walk away and leave their dance unfinished, Xander swallowed his own pride and closed his eyes, focusing on the movement and trying to avoid Ryoma’s unwieldy feet. Camilla would certainly never let him live this down, but in spite of the well of anxious anticipation in the pit of his stomach, he pushed on until the music slowed, releasing a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. 

They backed away from one another, Xander bowing to Ryoma as they parted, relief that nearly made him feel giddy swelling inside of his chest. He wasted no time in bowing to the other man before turning and abandoning him for the drink table, the long tablecloth casting shadows on the finely tiled floor. Reaching out for one of the stemmed glasses with something pale he hoped was wine, Xander forwent being social for a moment longer, hoping that alcohol would at least help him regain his bearings. 

“I didn’t think I’d ever live to see the day a Nohrian Prince shared a dance with a Hoshidan one,” said a familiar, cheerful voice to his left. “Watching the tension between you two was quite entertaining, but I do recall there was quite a bit when you visited me in Izumo, as well.” 

“Archduke Izana,” Xander said in greeting, sighing and setting the glass back on the table, disappointed that his attention was already being monopolized. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“Fate,” the man said with a broad smile, idly brushing his fingers through the strands of his long, flaxen hair. “You see, Prince Xander, there’s the weight of destiny singing about you. I can hear it.” 

Not entirely certain what to say, Xander opened and closed his mouth several times, finally settling on a feeble, “is that so?”

The Archduke only laughed, his smile broadening. 

“I can tell you don’t trust my intuition, but that’s just fine. You’re not like those of us in the East, and your magic isn’t connected to the Divine Sight, and in Nohr, I hear soothsaying is dangerous and sometimes requires blood sacrifice.” He leaned forward, not giving Xander any time to refute the blood sacrifice claims, his eyes opening slightly, intense and bright enough to freeze him in place. 

“You’re walking the path to peace,” Izana continued, his voice turning suddenly more serious, “though it’s a very rocky path, indeed. Pay attention to matters of the heart, Crown Prince Xander, and be careful not to neglect your own tender feelings. Too long you’ve lived alone in the shadows, struggling with the consequences of your choices. It’s time to step into the light.” 

He backed away, pleasant smile returning, and said nothing else as he turned, long robes sweeping behind him as he walked away. Xander could do nothing more than stare after his retreating figure, his brow furrowed deeply as he turned back towards the table and picked up the glass once more, draining the contents in a single long gulp.

The burn down his throat was a welcome distraction from the cryptic nonsense that always seemed to boil to the surface during these continental peace summits. Reaching out for a second glass, he quickly drained that as well, setting both back on the table before taking a breath and steeling himself, straightening his back and setting his jaw. 

They were a field full of carrots. 

That was all. 

Carrots, and they could not touch him. 

He would be perfectly fine, in the end. 

Even if wind of this nonsense somehow got back to father, he was positive that he could explain that he had been pressed into sharing the dance out of a sense of an obligation to honor Nestra’s culture. After all, the summit was being held here, and if the Queen asked him to perform for her… He could hardly say no, lest he risk making himself look like an ungracious guest. 

As it was, he and Prince Ryoma already looked foolish and utterly insincere. 

He doubted any of their initial goodwill gesture still had an impact after they had completely bungled their shared dance. 

That was what was unacceptable about the situation. 

But he knew he had no more time to contemplate it, not when there was still a chance he might recover some of that lost reputation with the people here. Forcing the tension from between his shoulders, Xander faced forward and walked into the crowd milling on the edge of the dance floor, intent on his mission. 

One way or another, Xander would bring glory to his people and lay to rest their demons.

And he would do it with or without Prince Ryoma’s cooperation. 

 

***

 

The night wore on, each moment more miserable than the last, Xander losing track of how many times he caught the Archduke’s eye across the room or brushed past the Queen, pretending he hadn’t noticed her trying to get his attention. He only interacted once or twice with Camilla, who had playfully congratulated him on managing to win the High Prince’s favor, only to laugh when he had frowned intently at her. 

Each time, she’d waved him off, promising that no one could possibly think they were lovers with how horrible their dance had been… 

And though that was the problem, in this particular case, it was also somewhat a relief. 

Or it had been until he was taking another brief break at the refreshment table and was quite suddenly seized by the wrist and pulled into a small alcove, away from the prying eyes of the crowd. 

“Prince Xander, what is the meaning of this?”

The voice was deep and demanding, one all to familiar after he’d heard it so many times today, and in the dim light, the man’s eyes seemed to glow as he stared up into Xander’s face. He looked furious, though his clothing was still perfectly in place, and Xander struggled through the slight buzz of warm alcohol in his mind to remember what he might have done to make Ryoma angry… 

And then…

The dance. 

Had his delegation really made an issue of it?

Sighing, he slowly shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest, looking down into Prince’s Ryoma’s face with a frown plastered over his features. Determined not to give up any ground, he ran his hand over his face and closed his eyes, allowing his irritation at the evening’s events to creep into his voice. “I have… No idea what you’re referring to, Prince Ryoma.” 

“Your retainer, the woman with the ridiculous hair,” Prince Ryoma began, clearly doubting Xander’s innocence in the issue, “congratulated me on my ability to break wild stallions.” 

“But the only time you’ve ever ridden a horse, you fell from it and were nearly trampled,” Xander replied blandly, taking satisfaction in the way Ryoma’s face turned red at the statement. 

“Don’t play dumb!” the Hoshidan replied snappishly. “You know full well what this is about, and she’s hardly the only one. I’ve been stopped by several others in your retinue who have all implied, through various horse puns, that I’ve taken their dark knight for a ride.” 

The words made Xander swallow his retort where he stood, the heat on his face from more than the glasses of wine he’d imbibed. 

Oh… 

Oh gods. 

They’d actually mentioned the sexual connotations of the dance. 

Covering his mouth with his hand, he swiftly averted his gaze, taking a deep breath as he attempted to bring his reeling thoughts back under control. Had his own delegation really made the issue worse for him than it already had been? In his wildest dreams, he had never imagined they would actually be foolish enough to confront the High Prince about it!

But of course… if they saw his own retainer mentioning it… 

“You knew,” Ryoma said firmly, his voice pressing into Xander’s thoughts, “you knew full well, and yet you still accepted the dance.”

“You had already decided for us,” Xander replied firmly, fearing whatever outburst Peri had and the effect that may have had on the entire ball. “We had passed the point of no return, and it would have been rude to refuse after you had already accepted. How could I possibly risk Nohr’s reputation by turning you down?”

His father hearing that he had danced with the High Prince of Hoshido was one thing.

Hearing they were lovers… 

Xander did not even want to think about how King Garon might react to the news. 

Already, he disapproved of Xander taking as many lovers as he had, and only remained quite because his beloved Arete had pointed out the hypocrisy in his actions. He supposed Father was only worried, of course, but… 

But nothing good could come of such an affair, and Xander knew it. 

Prince Ryoma seemed to know it as well, if his fury were any true indication of the rest of his feelings on the subject at hand. 

“And you didn’t think to warn me of the consequences?” the man demanded, taking a step closer to Xander, whose anxieties flared in sharp response, stepping back only to find himself nearly caged against the wall. “Prince Xander, do you know what this might do to both of our --”

“To your reputation?” Xander asked suddenly, cutting Ryoma off, farr too annoyed to bother playing at niceties any longer. “What? Are you truly so worried that they’ll think less of you if it’s rumored I penetrated you?” 

“You may have penetrated me in these rumors,” Ryoma growled, the threat much less meaningful when his entire face had gone red from what very much seemed to be mortification, “but if I’m the one breaking the stallion, then I’m the one in control.” 

Xander heard his own teeth snap together, his eyes narrowing as he took a step forward and then elbowed past Prince Ryoma, heading back towards the drink table. He did not fail to notice the sound of Ryoma’s wooden slats clicking heavily against the tile behind him, try to ignore them as he might. 

Not eager to be pulled somewhere else suspicious with rumors flying left and right, Xander reached for another drink, holding it in his hand like he would grasp the hilt of Siegfried. His blade was a comfort, and one he sorely missed in this moment as Prince Ryoma walked back into sight, staring up at him with a furious intensity that would do nothing to help dispel the rumors. 

Every action, whether angry or tender, would arouse suspicion, but as Xander looked into the Hoshidan’s face, he realized something else as well.

Something that made his stomach grow cold.

Xander could not ignore Ryoma, for the sake of the summit.

Thanks to one foolish rumor, one drunk retainer shouting suppositions across the ballroom, peace now meant risking his own reputation and the reputation of his counterpart. Surely, it was something the man realized as well, the reality settling heavily between them as they locked eyes. 

Reaching out, Xander picked up another glass of wine and handed it to Ryoma, watching the color drain from the man’s face as he took it and slammed it back more quickly than even Xander could manage. Setting it down on the table, Ryoma snorted and tugged restlessly on one of the strands of his long, dark hair, his gaze intense as he stared out at the deceptively carefree nobility. 

“It’s not sake,” he said, “but it will have to do.” 

Xander bowed his head, staring into his own glass and questioning the wisdom of drinking any more than he already had, especially on an empty stomach. This time, he simply sipped at it, swirling the pale contents around and staring at his own distorted reflection, unsurprised to see the deep frown on his own face. 

“What do you think we should do about the situation?” Xander asked Prince Ryoma, not bothering to look up. 

“What can we do but weather it?” Ryoma replied with a heavy sigh. “It’s not as if we can convince them that nothing happened, with your retainers out of control.” 

“I… do apologize for that,” Xander said sincerely, scowling into his glass. “I’ll… Speak with her later. This really is unacceptable behavior. She should know better.” 

“And I apologize, too,” Ryoma said, his first truly honest words the entire night… Something Xander only could tell because it looked physically painful for him to speak them aloud. “I was too harsh, and too hasty. I assumed you had something to do with all of this, and I was wrong.”

Xander took another short drink, setting the glass down and looking out at the people. 

There, he could see Felicia dancing with Archduke Izana, Flora arguing with Rinkah over something, and a delegation of Ninja in the corner staring at he and Ryoma. He couldn’t help but wonder how far the rumors had really spread, and if those Ninja would spread it further just to hurt Ryoma’s reputation; after all, Ryoma had mentioned something about unrest brewing in the East.

For the first time he considered that Nohr may not be the only country here with a negative reputation, and wondered if perhaps Hoshido had its own revenants lingering around dark corners. Were the demons rattling their bones, a faceless threat waiting to devour all that the Sumeragi Family had worked hard to build? Did the East forget that Hoshido was a Dragon, in spirit, and one who may be benevolent, but who would bear his sharp and dead claws, when threatened? 

And could it be that the Age of Dragons was finally passing, making way for the Age of Man?

That he and Ryoma were of a dying breed, the last of the great dragon-blooded hero families? 

Could a summit like this really strip them both of all their power and leave them nothing but a memory or a dream? 

And if it did… 

Would it really be a bad thing? 

“Thank you,’ Xander said, breathing out a sigh. “I accept your apology.” 

He looked towards Ryoma, idly running his finger along the rim of the glass that he had placed between them, staring at the man’s face in profile. Looking at him, Xander could feel that residual power responding to something that slumbered within himself, the slow stirring of the memory of wings and claws, of scales and razor sharp teeth. 

There was nobility there, in the lines of his face, in the curve of his full lips and the round, upward slanted tip of his otherwise strong nose. His hair spoke of ferocity, his hands stable and steady, and burdened with the same sort of weight that Xander’s own carried, something no one else could truly understand. 

Whatever he thought of Ryoma, they really were equals in every way.

And was it really worth risking everything that could be gained through cooperation just because of an old childhood grudge? How could he rightly be so selfish when there was so much at risk for the people who needed him most?

This wasn’t about his bloodline.

Not about preserving it, anyway. 

It was about his bloodline’s responsibility to the people who had entrusted them with their safety. 

“Are you genuinely interested in a united front, Prince Ryoma?” Xander suddenly asked, pulling the man from wherever his thoughts had wandered, his head turning so that his eyes met Xander’s. 

“If you’re willing to genuinely entertain it after all of this and the ridicule it might entail?” Ryoma asked, waving his hand towards the ball vaguely, as if to indicate that all of it were a waste of his time. “Then I’m willing to entertain it, too.”

A small smile passed over his lips, and for the first time Xander saw something other than pride or draconic strength reflected on his features. He saw uncertainty, and a bit of humor, as hard and ironic as it was, flashing through his eyes like lightning against the dark horizon, “as long as you’re okay with everyone assuming I just pulled you back there to suck you off, that is.” 

Xander snorted, leaning against the table and crossing his arms firmly over his chest. “I don’t think there’s anything we can do to stop anyone from imagining what you and I are doing to one another in shadowed hallways and dark bed chambers, Prince Ryoma.” 

He glanced away, chest briefly constricting as he bit out something of a bitter laugh, feeling his jaw go tight. “They already think I… Have the same inclinations as my Father. What’s this but another notch on the bedpost?” 

It’s not as if anyone but his siblings would believe he was only satiating his desires, anyway, by sleeping his way through Windmire’s elite. They would see a man following in his father’s footsteps, a man who would carelessly impregnant women and then pit them against one another by virtue of not intervening in their fights. A man keeping track of conquests rather than losing himself for just one night in a well of sensation that released frustration he could vent in very few ways. 

And frankly?

He sometimes doubted that even his siblings would believe that he… 

He would quit “skirt chasing” altogether should he find a person to be with. 

They knew no other way. 

Xander wanted only to love and be loved in return, but it was an impossible dream. 

One he would never achieve. 

“Your sense of humor is as dark as Nohr’s skies,” Prince Ryoma said, “but if you don’t mind them picturing us together, then I can put that all aside in the name of building something between our people that might last.”

“Then it’s a deal,” Xander said, daring to let himself feel hope for a fraction of a second. “We move forward together, Prince Ryoma.”

“Together,” Ryoma agreed, finally picking up another glass, inclining his head in acknowledgement before he took a sip. 

And together, Xander thought, was where they would surely spend the rest of the night, drinking and pretending that tomorrow wouldn’t bring with it new whispers and challenges. Allowing themselves to be young again, perhaps, but only for a single moment before the final bells chimed at one in the morning and the fantasy ended. 


	2. A Quiet Luncheon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, things will pick up a bit in terms of content and the story will finally be worth its rating.
> 
> For now, enjoy this little addition to this story. :)

“You look especially groggy this morning, Brother,” Leo said at the breakfast table that morning, a small smile spreading across his lips. “Could it be that High Prince Ryoma kept you up all night?” 

Xander narrowed his eyes at his younger brother, pressing the rim of his mug to his lips and taking a drink of the coffee he’d poured himself. Nearby he could hear Camilla laughing, deciding to pay more attention to Elise coming to sit at his left, reaching out to place a chocolate covered croissant in front of him. 

“You need to eat something, Xander,” she said firmly, “or you’ll feel sick by this afternoon.” 

Sighing heavily, he picked up the pastry and stared at it for a moment before taking a bite and reaching up to run his hand over his face. Elise was right, of course… She had a way of being right about these things, but… He really did not want to eat right now. There were other things on his mind. 

His opening statements at the summit, for example, and disciplining Peri for her actions the night before. There would be a good deal he would have to explain to the delegates about Cheve, and an entirely new political arena to navigate, with what the rumors that Leo and Camilla were now mocking meant for him. 

In fact, he could hardly believe they were taking it this lightly. 

“You’re thinking too much, big brother,” Camilla said, running her fingers through his hair affectionately as she leaned forward and placed a kiss on her cheek. “You’re taking this far, far too seriously.” 

“Whether or not Peri meant it as a joke,” Xander said firmly, “the other delegates will not know that. They will take it seriously, and will assume that the High Prince and I are… Ah…”

“Involved in a passionate, illicit, secret love affair?” Leo asked, the grin still lighting up his face. 

“Well, if it were secret, it certainly isn’t any longer,” Camilla said with a laugh, winking at Elise from over his shoulder. “Everyone knows that they’re kissing now.”

“Well, I think they’d be a very cute couple,” Elise said firmly, and Xander sighed, taking another drink of his coffee. “Prince Ryoma is very dashing, and he has nice hair.”

At least she was attempting to defend him, in her own way. 

“If by “nice” you mean “looks like he got hit with a thunder spell’,” Leo drawled, “I agree with you.” 

“Now, now,” Camilla chided playfully, sitting down on Xander’s other side, “he’s our dear brother’s precious lover. We have to be more polite to him than that… After all, he's practically family.” 

“Please,” Xander said, covering his face with his hand, “I really do not have the energy for this right now. Ryoma and I are not --”

“Oh, you’re on a first name basis now?” Leo asked, his grin never faltering. 

“Yes,” Xander snapped, slamming his cup back onto the table so hard that the liquid in it spilled over the edge. “We are on a first name basis. I have known him since he was three years old and following me around the courtyard in Krakengard and pulling my hair! And now we are both adults, heirs to our respective countries, and we are allying in order to be better prepared for the summit.”

His siblings all stared at him as if he had lost his mind, and the tension slowly left from between his shoulders, relieved that he’d finally silenced them. Xander didn’t care how crazy they thought he was, especially when he reached out, shoving the croissant into his face in three bites before he stood, grabbing Siegfried and looping it through his belt before walking away. 

Grateful he was already dressed for the day and that he didn’t have anything else menial to worry about, he swiftly exited the Grand Muse, taking the steps two at a time and nearly colliding with the High Prince at the bottom. Thankfully, he was able to stop himself at the last moment, reaching out to grasp Ryoma’s shoulders and steady them both, freezing when he felt Ryoma’s hands grasp his arms firmly. 

For a moment, the two of them stood frozen in place, staring at one another. It was as if time had stopped moving, and all the people milling around them fading away to four points of contact, though Xander quickly drew away, clearing his throat awkwardly. The High Prince shuffled away, bowing quickly in greeting before he straightened, awkwardly clearing his throat and shuffling from foot to foot. 

“We really should avoid doing anything to… encourage them,” he managed at last, after what seemed to be a few moments of long struggling. “How… Are you, Prince Xander?”

“I’m…” Xander was about to make an excuse, but he pushed a sigh past his lips and decided that it was best to be honest. “I had a difficult morning. My siblings have decided … That it’s best to take advantage of the rumors circulating about us to make my life miserable.”

The words seemed to drain the tension from the HIgh Prince’s body, Xander watching him relax and place his hand on the hilt of Raijinto. “Oh?” he asked, his expression amused, and yet somehow resigned. “You too, Prince Xander?” 

“They seemed to enjoy themselves, and I suppose I can’t really hold it against them,” he replied, considering all the times they hadn’t really been able to laugh or relax in the presence of Father. “Shall we?”

They set off across the plaza together, walking in uncomfortable silence side by side. The slats of Ryoma’s sandals clicked noisily against the cobbled ground, soles of Xander’s leather riding boots nearly silent in comparison, and it was then that Xander realized they had both dressed down for this. The sight of Ryoma no longer wearing that ridiculous kimono made him feel more relaxed, though he was hardly looking forward to the tension of “diplomacy” and the harsh, judgemental looks of the rest of the delegates.  

“I…” Ryoma started, and then laughed, the sound shockingly bitter. “I’m not really sure what to say to you, or how to even say it. I’ve spent so long… Not…” Xander saw him wave his hands from the corner of his eye, as if trying to communicate with his hands, “I hate you.”

“I know,” Xander said with a half smile, “believe me, I know. You’ve never liked me.”

“That’s not true,” Ryoma replied firmly, quickly. “I…” the volume of his voice dropped, and Xander was suddenly aware of just how closely they were walking side by side. “You know that’s not true, Xander.” 

“We were children, Ryoma,” Xander said with a long sigh, “and we didn’t know any better. We didn’t realize that our fathers--”

“It doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t always hate you. I grew into it,” Ryoma asserted, his voice firm as he reached out to grab Xander’s sleeve, forcing him to turn around. “ _ We _ grew into it.” 

Xander looked down into his face, their eyes locked for a long moment, and years of rivalry and anger melted away.

Once again, they were six and nine, and Ryoma was sitting in Krakengard’s garden with skinned knees, trying not to cry underneath the watchful eyes of the gargoyles, and Xander was there, soothing his tears. And then they were nine and twelve, and they had been writing one another for years in secret, confiding in one another -- the fears and pressures of being the heir to the throne, the difficulties of training to be a warrior, the trepidation of whether or not they would ever be worthy of a Sacred Weapon. 

But Hoshido and Nohr were rivals, and even though they’d always spent a great deal of time together, eventually their fathers had discovered and ended their correspondence. After that… 

Well, it was a matter of time and duty, Xander supposed. 

People grew apart.

People changed. 

And princes could not afford to mourn the things that couldn’t be afforded to them because they would never have a normal life. They could only swallow it and move on, living up to what was expected of them and silently accepting their duty. 

“We did,” Xander agreed quietly, staring at the place where Ryoma’s fingers still twined into the fabric of his coat. “I… Don’t think it can ever be the way it was. We’re not children anymore and there’s too much... “ he sighed, eyes slowly sliding back to Ryoma’s face, “too much between us.” 

“I agree,” Ryoma said, exhaling as his fingers relaxed their hold, “but I was hoping that maybe we could channel some of that childhood fondness into learning to work together.” His voice dropped again, and he bowed his head, his tone serious, a far cry from the man that Xander knew from all those sparring matches and meetings along the border.

When he looked back up, there was resolve glowing in the depths of his stormy green eyes, his jaw set, back straight. “I don’t want to be like our fathers.” 

The words… Softened Xander’s disposition. 

They had already seen one another drunk, after all, and had already agreed to do this. If they were going to support one another in there, Xander thought as he looked up at the government building across the plaza, staring at the golden domed roof shining brightly in the morning sunlight, they would have to let go of that bitterness. He would have to start picturing Ryoma as that boy with skinned knees again, at least in part. He would have to somehow connect the image of the restrained, quiet man beside him, the man who always had an air of arrogance, with the passionate, eager child who had followed him around and told him with stars in his eyes and a precocious pout that they would one day make things right between their people. 

That their friendship could change the course of history.

“I… agree,” Xander said at long last, watching the tension drain from Prince Ryoma’s shoulders at the words. “Perhaps… Perhaps later we should meet over lunch, just the two of us, and discuss… Discuss our plans?” 

Ryoma nodded, and the barest hint of a smile teased his lips. “I think we can manage that. As long as you don’t mind the smell of fish.”

“I can stomach the smell,” Xander told him, unable to help but return the smile, feeling some of his own anxiety eased by Ryoma’s shift in demeanour, “as long as you don’t make me taste it.” 

Ryoma’s smile widened, though he said nothing else and set off to climb the steps leading towards the government building, towering over the plaza. Xander followed him in silence, watching the way his hair swayed behind him, even in a high ponytail atop his head, the gold embellishment on Raijinto’s sheath catching and holding the light in the same way he was sure Siegfried’s did. Dressed this way, it was much easier for him to believe that Ryoma really had been that boy once, all the trappings of royalty and warriorhood stripped away to leave him simply a man doing his duty in the service of Hoshido. 

The same as Xander was doing for Nohr. 

The rest of their walk was silent, their conversation helping to ease Xander further into the idea of an alliance between them. He hoped that they could maintain a level of professionalism that would help dissuade the rumors, and that being seen together would instead cement in the minds of the delegates a united front between Nohr and Hoshido. 

This could mean good things for the future, and it could perhaps see their childhood promise to improve relations between Nohr and Hoshido come to fruition. 

It made Xander quietly pray to the Dusk Dragon for success so that his heir may not lose what Xander himself had lost -- 

The chance at an intimate friendship with the one person who might understand their burden. 

Pushing the thoughts from his mind for the time being, Xander concentrated instead on making his way to the conference room and mentally preparing himself for hours upon hours of politics in close quarters with people he did not particularly like. He barely even noticed how grand the interior of the government building was, finding himself ushered by servants into a room with a large table in the center and long, low couches with dark red cushions placed neatly around it. Pitchers of water stood out against the dark wood, crystal glasses placed upside down on colorful tile coasters, with small baskets of fruit and nuts interspersed across the table’s length as a cool breeze passed through the room from the open windows, sheer curtains stirring in the breeze. 

Certain delegates had already arrived. 

The Queen, of course, sat at the head of the table in a long, flowing, summer dress, while the Mokushu representatives pressed against one side of the room, crowded together and muttering quietly. Lady Flora sat calmly next to Lady Rinkah, though neither of them spoke, while Fuga milled across the table across from them and smiled warmly at Ryoma as he entered only moments behind Xander. 

Briefly, Ryoma caught his eye, and the two walked across the room together, slowly sinking onto one of the couches, directly to the Queen’s left, and sitting side by side. Many of the people in the room with them looked at them looked surprised, though they had the decorum to pretend otherwise after a few moments of blatant staring. 

Uncomfortably, Xander shifted in his seat, stiffening when he saw the Queen looking at him with an expression on her face that seemed somehow … knowing.

Though if she knew something he didn’t, he sorely wished she would tell him. 

Xander had very little patience for people who were indirect. 

That, at least, was one thing he could always appreciate in Ryoma. 

“It’s good to see you up bright and early today,” Queen Francesca said with a small smile, her eyes sliding over slowly towards Ryoma. “Both of you look better than I thought you might, for men who spent the last hours of the ball at the refreshment table.” 

“Nohrians can hold our alcohol, Your Majesty,” Xander said, “I believe drinking is one of our national pastimes.” 

She laughed, reaching out to place a warm hand on his arm, something in her smile growing conspiratorial as she leaned closer and motioned for Ryoma to do the same. Her smile only widened as he moved forward, dark brows furrowed in deep concern, the moonlight catching the red in his hair and making it shine. 

“I must confess,” Queen Francesca began, “I wasn’t expecting the rumors about you two to have any credence, but after seeing you dance last night? I can see the tension between you.” 

Xander felt his stomach twist and fall, could also feel Ryoma stiffen next to him, back going straight as his fists clasped upon the table. She only chuckled at the expressions on their faces and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, shaking her head in amusement.

“Oh, don’t worry,” she continued, “your secret is safe with me. The rumors will remain only rumors, but I suggest you resolve some of that tension between you and learn to cooperate -- both in the bedroom and out. It’s all well good, that passion, but when you learn to dance?”

A wistful smile crossed her gracefully aging features as the hand on her shoulder dropped to gently brush over Xander’s knuckle in what he could only describe as motherly affection. “Ah, when you learn to dance,” she mused, “that’s when you learn how to channel all your passion into productivity.” 

Saying nothing else, she leaned back, greeting the Archduke as he walked into the room, followed by the delegates from the quiet islands around Notre Sagesse. 

Left with only her words and Prince Ryoma, who refused to meet his eyes as he stared furiously at the woodgrain on the table, Xander couldn’t help but think on how long the next several hours would be. 

***

“-- Tribe believes that Nohr will threaten our hunting grounds now that we no longer have Cheve to intercede on our behalf,” Flora said firmly, her blue hair starting to come loose from its restraints. “Nestra has proven again and again that it will remain neutral in all conflicts, and while we respect that neutrality, the Southern Islands are just as much at risk as we are.” 

“The Islands are willing to maintain our trade with Nohr,” said their delegate, a bald man with skin that reminded Xander of Niles, his brother’s retainer. “That is, of course, provided that they give adequate explanation for the fall of Cheve.” 

“How can you be --” Flora began, cut off when Queen Francesca raised a hand. 

“What would your answer for Lord Sylvian be, Crown Prince Xander?” she asked, her voice calm, that of a proctor residing over a meeting. 

Not for the first time, he was grateful that it was her kingdom hosting the summit. 

“Cheve was a regrettable necessity,” Xander said firmly, idly running his thumb along the facets of the crystal goblet clasped tightly in his hands. “They attempted to hold their crop yield hostage in order to gain my youngest sister’s hand in marriage for their Duke and the support of Nohr’s military in retaking Notre Sagesse.” 

“Does Nohr not have crops of its own?” one of the Ninja from the East asked quietly, only for Xander’s response to be cut off by Ryoma, of all people. 

“Nohr is still suffering from a drought and the resulting famine,” he said simply, arms crossed firmly over his broad chest. “My younger brother went there on a diplomatic mission not too long ago and wrote a report for my King Father. If you’d like, I can request he submit it to the summit.” 

“I would like to see it,” Flora said firmly, “to ascertain its contents.”

“You could simply travel southward,” Xander said, casting a cold stare in her direction. “Should you visit Windmire, I assure you that you will see how very little crop has been produced this year. Perhaps you should also meet my sister --”

“Is she not yet a child?” Lord Sylvian asked, cutting him off, though Xander suspected it had to do more with the bright red coloring Flora’s cheeks than anything Xander himself had said. “I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting the Princess Elise yet, but I do recall she’s around the age of my youngest child. She must be no more than fourteen years of age, if that’s the case.” 

“That is indeed the case,” Xander said simply, “and I would like for her to have her choice of partner… When she reaches a marriageable age.”

“So Cheve was holding valuable resources over Nohr’s head?” Archduke Izana asked quietly, still smiling in his placid way. 

“It sounds to me as though they were attempting to force your hand by holding the wellbeing of your people hostage,” said Ryoma, silenced when one of the Mokushu Ninja spoke in a clear and assertive voice. 

“Could not Nohr have attempted to negotiate with Cheve before resorting to violence? Surely an accord could have been met through the use of diplomacy. Or perhaps Nohr could have reached out to other countries for assistance.” 

“Nohr has allies,” Xander said firmly, “but we weren’t the only ones hit with the drought in the West. Nestra and the Islands both have their own people to worry about, and we wouldn’t ask them to support our population, as well. Cheve remained unaffected, and attempted to force our hand to get what they wanted. It’s as simple as that.” 

“Still… To resort to violence,” the Ninja continued with a sigh.

“Is common, for those who follow the tenants of the Dusk Dragon,” Lord Sylvian stated calmly. “Those in the West believe in asserting our power to end conflicts and avoid drawing things out needlessly. Nestra and the Islands are much the same, as was Cheve. Nohr has not always historically acted wisely, but in this case I must support the Crown Prince’s defense.” 

“What troubles the Wind Tribe, and I’m certain it troubles the Ice Tribe as well,” Fuga began, speaking for the first time in nearly an hour, “is that Nohr did not have to conquer the lands of Cheve. Should Cheve not be returned to a governing autonomous body?” 

At that, there was a general mutter of agreement. 

Xander set his jaw, attempting to explain why the lands had been annexed, that it had been in part to keep Notre Sagesse neutral and prevent the threat that Cheve had represented to the rest of the West… But the words wouldn’t come. How could he explain what it was like marching to war when a war had not been seen since the time of his Great Grandfather’s rule? When people had forgotten the toll? How could they so easily forget the way Nohr had been blamed for the conflict and saddled with reparations, the consequences of which his impoverished people still felt, while the rich benefited from their suffering? 

He had studied the Histories, but Nohr was destined to only be remembered as a tyrant, no matter how its people struggled just to survive. Whether or not they truly had started that long-ago war no longer mattered, not in the wake of what they were suffering now as a result of greed. 

“Nohr was still paying monetary and physical reparations to both Hoshido and Cheve at the time,” Ryoma quite suddenly said, shattering the smug silence that had fallen over the delegation. “The last war it fought was also against Cheve, during the reign of my Great Grandmother, who insisted upon lending her aid to the Chevois army. We forced a treaty upon Nohr, an unfavorable one, one that shames my family to this day, one that has stripped Nohr of many of its natural resources and devalued its currency.” 

Before anyone could interrupt him, he continued, glancing towards Xander with a knowing look on his face. In his head, Xander could hear his heart thundering, hardly believing that Prince Ryoma was acknowledging such a thing, let alone coming to his aid in such a way. 

“If Nohr acted with a spirit of vengeance, it’s entirely understandable, considering what she suffered and how harsh a reminder the Chevois demands must have been… Especially considering how much Nohr had already given her,” Ryoma concluded. 

“But still…” muttered Rinkah of the Fire Tribe, her voice a new addition to the conversations, “to resort to such an act… I didn’t think you’d ever support Nohr’s violence, Prince Ryoma. You know as well as I do that there were other ways to resolve this issue.” 

“And what would you have had us do?” Xander asked, setting his jaw as he stared into her bright eyes. “Bargain with them? With what goods? Given in to their demands and sacrifice my sister, further encouraging other wars in the West while jeopardizing the safety of the Rainbow Sage? We had no recourse, Rinkah of the Fire Tribe. I would think someone whose culture relies so much on strength would understand and value that perspective.” 

The words silenced her, but he could still feel the spirit of dissent in the room. 

It was unlikely that they would let Nohr get away with this, no matter how good his arguments were. 

No matter how many good Nohrian men and women Xander had watched die for Cheve’s foolishness. 

“I believe this is a good time to call a recess for lunch,” Queen Francesca announced, “so that we may gain some distance and perspective, and cooler heads may prevail, in the end. We should not let our tensions overcome us, and be mindful of our duties as rulers.” She smiled serenely at her guests, “we will reconvene in two hours time.” 

To that, there was a general mutter of agreement, people standing up and stretching. Most of the room had cleared out within moments, leaving Xander nearly alone with Prince Ryoma, who was looking at him with a furrowed brow, eyes as stormy and as green as ever. Slowly, he reached out, taking his goblet and downing the entire glass in what seemed to be a single gulp, reaching out with hands wet from condensation to run his fingers through that ridiculous hair of his. 

“You shouldn’t upset her, Prince Xander,” Ryoma said to him conversationally. “I’ve known Rinkah almost as long as I’ve known you, and her temper can change the temperature in a room by a good few degrees.” 

“I’m afraid there’s not much I can do when she insists on bringing her prejudices into this room,” Xander replied, sighing heavily. “You… Wanted to go to lunch? Do you have somewhere in mind?” 

“Yes, actually,” Ryoma said with a soft sigh, leaning back in his seat for only a moment before he stretched his legs out, cracked his neck, and then stood. “Don’t worry -- They serve things other than fish.”

“A feat, for Cyrkensia,” Xander said somewhat caustically, emotions still running hot from the long debate about the morality of Nohr’s actions. “Still,” he began, pausing as he decided it was a good idea to put his best foot forward, “thank you for considering my tastes.” 

“It’s not…” Ryoma started, then paused, cutting himself short. “I was going to say it’s not a problem, but if you had asked me to select a restaurant last night, I might have picked something with only fish out of spite.”

Xander only smiled thinly in response, standing and stretching his long arms.

They said nothing else once more, walking side by side the entire way there. There was nothing really particularly companionable about the silence, but at the same time it wasn’t exactly awkward, either. How could it be? Xander asked himself, after Ryoma had risked Hoshido’s reputation on coming to Nohr’s defense. 

In truth, it touched him in ways he hadn’t quite expected, and for the first time it made him truly believe that Ryoma intended to try to heal the wounds between their people. 

Between the two of them. 

“I…” Xander started, his voice not quite lost in the crowd of people around them, Ryoma’s green eyes sliding slowly toward him. Clearing his throat, Xander began again, forcibly easing the tension from between his shoulders even as he grasped Siegfried’s hilt for comfort. “I feel I should… Thank you for assistance in there. What you did was … More than I could have expected, and I swear to you that I will find a way to repay you.” 

Xander only knew Ryoma had paused because the sound of his slats against the stones stopped, leaving them both frozen in the middle of a busy street with Ryoma staring over his shoulder at Xander. His eyes were wide and his mouth opened ever so slightly, lips parted in surprise, before his tongue darted out between them and he let out a somewhat breathy laugh. 

“You’re going to embarass me, Prince Xander,” Ryoma said quietly, the smile still playing across his lips looking somehow shy. “It just reminds me how demonstrative of your affections you were when we were children.” He paused, his expression turning contemplative, something in his eyes forcing Xander to look away. “What happened to that boy?” 

Xander looked at Ryoma, the two of them locking eyes as some unnamed emotion stirred inside Xander’s chest. His throat grew tight and his fist clenched and unclenched at his side, forced to look away when he remembered long ago nights underneath the Nohrian Sky, sitting side by side on the Courtyard’s benches naming the flowers that grew best in the darkness. 

He could still see the look on child Ryoma’s face, wide eyed and curious, full of admiration for Xander. 

The admiration of a boy too young to realize he carried the rising sun on his back. 

“He grew up,” Xander said quietly, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, “as we all must, eventually. I can ill afford to… To still be that child when Nohr needs the strength in my hands.” 

“I understand,” Ryoma said, his voice quiet but close, “though I wish I didn’t.” There was another pause and then a long sigh, “come on. We should get to lunch before we waste all our time sitting on this road waxing nostalgic.” 

It seemed their every conversation ended this way, with long looks, neither of them sure what to say. Xander wondered if they could truly find common ground again after all of these years, years filled with furious words and chilly interactions, the wounds far fresher than fond childhood memories from a more innocent time. It was easier to remember a Ryoma with eyes like storms speaking over him every chance he was granted, mocking him in that faux-polite Hoshidan manner, challenging him on everything he said on what seemed to be a matter of principle than it was to remember that child. 

Eventually, they found themselves in a small pub not far from the wharf, making Xander wonder how Ryoma knew about this place. It didn’t seem like the sort of location a Prince would eat at, but… Ryoma had never exactly been typical in many of the ways in which Xander himself was not typical. It made sense, in a way, that neither of them would be completely normal and that they valued their privacy and whatever sense of normalcy they could hold onto. 

Dressed this way, too, there was much less risk of people recognizing them for who they were, especially when Xander reached up and removed his circlet, tucking it into the lining of his vest. 

The two exchanged a long look at the gesture before Ryoma smiled and pushed the door open, plunging them into the musty, smoky smell of the little pub, an undercurrent to the scent of cooking meat. 

Neither of them spoke to the other until they had finished ordering, sitting across from one another in a more private corner of the establishment. If people gave either of them looks, it was simply because they were obviously not Nestran… But looked away when they failed to be anyone interesting, on the surface. The anonymity set Xander at ease, some of the tension between his shoulders vanishing, eyes fluttering closed briefly as he leaned back in the rickety chair beneath him. 

“You look more comfortable in this kind of place than I thought you would,” Ryoma said quietly, prompting Xander to open his eyes and peer at him, crossing his arms over his chest. 

He couldn’t help but give an amused smile, laughing to himself. “You’d be surprised what I’m comfortable doing…” He hesitated, reaching up to run his thumb over his lip before speaking, “Ryoma.” 

Ryoma blinked somewhat owlishly and then began laughing, shaking his head from side to side, a few of his long strands of hair coming loose from their restraints. “I don’t know much about domestic life in Nohr, but places like this are common in Hoshido. The atmosphere is different, but if you’d like… If you visit Hoshido anytime soon… I can take you.” 

His grin widened, and he leaned forward across the table, cupping his chin with one calloused hand, sleeve falling down to reveal a pattern of scarring on his arms that Xander had never noticed before. He didn’t mention it, but he’d seen such scarring before… On the skin of those who had been hit by a Lightning spell, making Xander wonder at the price of using Raijinto. 

“So there are places like ths in Windmire?” Ryoma asked, pulling Xander from his thoughts. 

“There weren’t for a long time,” Xander said, shaking his head to dispel his lingering questions, “but Queen Arete has convinced Father to crack down on the street gangs. For the first time since… Since Mother’s death, it’s safe enough for civilians to start walking the streets and running businesses again.” 

“She sounds like a strong woman,” Ryoma replied, to which Xander could only nod. “Queen Mikoto is the same way. She’s convinced Father to do many things she wouldn’t otherwise, but… Xander.” Ryoma took a breath, his brow furrowing in an unusual show of concern, the fingers of his left drumming against the table. “May I ask for your advice on something?” 

Xander was a bit surprised, leaning forward as his brow furrowed further, but he nodded.

Ryoma looked… relieved. 

Before he could speak the bar maiden returned with their food in hand, Xander glad to see a hearty stew in front of him, though he was somewhat distracted by the look on Ryoma’s face. It had been a long time since the High Prince had expressed his emotions so clearly in front of Xander. It was… unexpected, more than even the dances or the rumors of their supposed illicit relationship. 

“Have you heard about Mokushu… About what they did… Are trying to do to Khoga?” Ryoma asked, reaching for the fork beside him to pick at the white flesh of the fish he’d ordered. 

“I’ve heard rumors of sedition,” Xander admitted, “but I’m not familiar with the exact details. Aren’t Mokushu and Khoga vassal states of Hoshido?” 

“Mokushu has invaded Khoga’s territory and forced Khoga’s government to submit to their own,” Ryoma said. “My Father is refusing to interfere, stating that historically we’ve always allowed the Ninja Clans to sort out their own differences… But I have my concerns. I’m worried this could escalate into full out war.” 

Ryoma glanced away, staring out the window onto the nearby street, his lips tugged into a frown. “Queen Mikoto agrees, but he won’t listen to either of us.He believes to act would be to violate our…” Ryoma waved his hand, “that it would be a violation of our warrior’s pride.” 

“Is it?” Xander asked. 

“No. You could interpret it in different ways,” Ryoma said simply. “We owe Khoga many debts. They’ve served us faithfully for years, and Mokushu acts without honor. I think now would be the perfect time to do something, but I can’t go against Father’s wishes.”

The sentiment was so familiar that it caught Xander off guard, his eyes falling to the table as he smiled sadly, stirring his stew with the spoon to release some of the heat from it. His other hand cupped the side of the bowl, letting the warmth sink into his skin the same way Ryoma’s words washed over him… A reminder that they had more in common than just their positions. 

“That would compromise your position and bring you shame,” Xander said simply.

“Yes,” Ryoma said quietly. 

They lapsed into silence before Xander finally sighed, shifting in his seat and listening to the chair creak underneath his weight. Looking up into Ryoma’s face, he pressed his lips together and felt his brow furrow, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth before he breathed out a long sigh. 

“Have you considered taking it into your own hands here, at the summit, but using your position as the future monarch to threaten them? Even if your father refuses to do anything, that doesn’t mean you’re powerless. We are…” Xander waved his hand, and breathed out a sigh, “we are our people’s future. Mokushu must recognize that they have more to risk by enraging you than they risk by provoking your father at this point.” 

“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Ryoma admitted. “I’m afraid you have more of a mind for politics than I do.”

“Or simply more experience,” Xander said with a small smile. “Father… Father was so engaged with his mistresses,” he breathed out a sigh and shook his head. “I’ve learned how to navigate the Court fairly well, and our cultures are very different. It’s possible your studies just had a different focus than my own.” 

Ryoma smiled, then shook his head, finally taking a large bite of his fish. 

“Enough of this,” he said after swallowing. “I’m sure we both have better things to talk about than politics. Do you still breed horses?” 

Surprised that Ryoma remembered that little detail from whatever inane conversation he’d picked it up from, Xander shook his head in amusement and launched into an answer, grateful for the chance to escape politics for just awhile longer.

In a way, it almost felt like they were those boys again. 

Xander smiled. 

***

“You look exhausted,” Princess Hinoka said as they entered the Grand Muse side by side. “That long of a day?”

“Let’s just say that Kotaro is lucky he’s a daimyo or I would have made him wear his own ass as a hat hours ago,” Ryoma growled, glancing towards Xander briefly with a weary smile on his lips. “I’m sorry you had to get involved in that. I’m afraid Mokushu doesn’t like you very much.”

“No one likes Nohr,” Xander said blandly, though it was primarily to hide his amusement at Ryoma’s colorful description, “and I owed you for your generosity regarding the situation with Cheve.” 

Ryoma placed a hand on his shoulder briefly, though it fell back to his side just as quickly. 

It was odd how simple it was to fall back into friendly habits, even though Xander had thought it would be impossible… But it was true that acting as allies on the summit floor had done wonders for their bond. He… hoped, hoped against all hope, that whatever this strange camaraderie was could last beyond this week. 

If it did, it might mean things could finally get better. 

It might mean dispelling the threat of War after the first Peace Summit in Cheve, held at Father’s insistence, had so spectacularly failed to do anything to ease the tensions between Nohr and Hoshido. 

“Ah,” Hinoka suddenly gasped, as if realizing he were there, bowing deeply before him. “Hello, Crown Prince. I wasn’t expecting to see you two, um, together.”

_ Especially after last night.  _

The words hung unspoken between the three of them. 

Thankfully, he was spared giving an awkward response by the feeling of warm arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. A smile tugged at his lips as he covered the pair of hands firmly grasping his center, carefully prying them away only to turn around and return the embrace. Fondly, he swept his hand over Elise’s hair, tucking an errant strand behind her ear before he pulled away. 

“How was your day?” he asked her quietly, watching her scrunch up her face in displeasure. 

“Camilla and Leo were busy all day and left me alone,” she said with a pout, sticking out her tongue. “I told them to make up for it we all had to eat supper together tonight. Are you hungry?” 

He blinked slowly, then nodded, suddenly aware of the hollow feeling in his own stomach. 

Had the meal he’d shared with Ryoma that afternoon really been the last one?

“Then we should go,” she said, quickly turning around to deliver a curtsy to Princess Hinoka and High Prince Ryoma. “Thank you for taking care of my brother.”

Ryoma seemed amused, his eyes flickering to meet Xander’s, expression completely different from that of his quietly stunneded sister. Smile gentling, he returned the bow, reaching out to place a hand on his sister’s back as he forced her to do the same, her muscles unfreezing at his touch. 

“Thank you for entrusting him to me,” Ryoma said as he straightened, eyes sliding back toward Xander one more time. “I’ll see you tomorrow? Bright and early?” 

“As if either of us has a choice,” Xander said, returning the smile with a small one of his own. “Rest well, Prince Ryoma.”

They exchanged one more nod before Xander was dragged away by an impatient Elise, quickly finding himself back in the private conference chamber they’d used to eat that morning. Already, Camilla and Leo were waiting, the two of them seated and talking over drinks, though they looked up when Xander entered the room. 

Camilla smiled warmly, gesturing for him to sit … Though she hardly had to with Elise practically pushing him into a chair and then sitting beside him. 

“So how were negotiations today?” Leo asked, talk of politics the first thing leaving his lips. 

Xander sighed and rolled his eyes, leaning across the table as he reached for one of the grapes, rolling it between his fingers before he popped it into his mouth. 

“That bad?” Leo snorted. “I suppose they were insistent about Cheve. The Ice Tribe must be adamant that we “do something” about it, though I have no idea what Lady Flora expects of us. And whether they’d admit it or not… Lord Sylvian and Queen Franchesca must agree.” 

“I would have to speak with them in private,” Xander said, reaching for another grape, hunger renewed tenfold at the taste of the first. “There’s no way to know for sure otherwise.”

Lord Sylvian was… Well, frankly, Xander knew very little about him, and as for Queen Franchesca… 

Her interest in him seemed more personal than political, at least at this juncture. 

He frowned, thinking about her insinuation that he and Ryoma were… intimate from that morning. What stake could she possibly have in what he and Ryoma were or were not doing in bed? Why did it seem to matter so much to everyone here, as well? 

It seemed to him to be too genuine an interest to be the playful teasing of his siblings or mere viciousness. 

“Well, the first rule of politics is to assume everyone hates you, darling,” Camilla said, pushing a plate of bread and butter towards him with the tip of her finger. “Didn’t they have anything for you to graze at the meeting? Poor dear.” 

“We were focused on the proceedings,” Xander said. “Everyone knows the first three hours of these things are nothing more than a recitation of the minutes from the last Summit.” 

“And what about you and Ryoma?” Elise asked, her words making Xander practically choke on the grape he’d just put in his mouth. “You came in together, didn’t you?” 

Leo’s eyebrows arched, and Camilla’s face split into a grin at the words. 

“Oh? You came in together?” Camilla asked, laughing, the sound settling in Xander’s stomach and hovering there uncomfortably. “Were you walking hand in hand, like lovers ought?” 

“Ryoma and I are working on improving relations between Nohr and Hoshido,” Xander said firmly. 

“Is that what you’re calling it?” Leo said with a thin smile. “Improving relations?” 

Xander glared at them both, grabbing one of the goblets on the table, reaching for the wine and filling the cup as full as was reasonable. Glaring over the rim, he drained part of it before placing it back on the table, some of his annoyance leaving his body as he began to butter a piece of bread. 

“I’m certainly glad you two are enjoying laughing at my expense,” Xander said blandly as Elise frowned at their siblings. “You’re enjoying your time away from Azura and Queen Arete, aren’t you?” 

“Azura would be joining us,” Leo said rather simply. “After all, you so seldom lose your composure that watching you respond like this is a treat.” 

He snorted into his drink and shook his head. 

“Well you’ve had your fun,” he said, setting the glass down. “Did either of you do anything engaging today?” 

“I managed to acquire several tickets to an opera tomorrow evening,” Camilla announced, leaning forward ever so slightly, her face far more serious than it was mere moments ago. “Given that you are genuinely trying to improve relations with the High Prince, I suggest you take two of them and attend with him. It might do the populace good to see you truly interacting as equals outside of the Summit.” 

Xander pressed his lips together, then nodded, suppressing a sigh. 

“I’ll bring it up to him tomorrow morning. Did you do anything for yourself?” 

“I went to a few of the historical museums here,” Leo said simply as he cut large slices of tomato to place on carefully toasted bread. “I plan on visiting more tomorrow and…” he hesitated, his face scrunching up into a look of disgust, as if there were something vile in his mouth. “Well, if we’re working on improving things with Hoshido, I’ll invite Prince Takumi with me. Maybe he could learn something about Western Culture.” 

“Then perhaps Elise and I will invite Princesses Hinoka and Sakura to one of the spas here,” Camilla declared. “It’s not as if massages really require conversation, and frankly, Princess Hinoka looks as though she could use a good skin treatment. Spending all day with animals can be dreadful for your complexion, if you don’t take care of it.” 

“Only if we can take them to some of those cute little bakeries afterwards,” Elise said, glancing towards Xander with stars in her eyes. “Please, Xander? I want macarons. It’s been a really, really long time!” 

“Very well,” Xander acquiesced, nodding his head. “Why don’t you also take them to some of the shops? I’m sure Hinoka would enjoy looking at Western weapons, and Princess Sakura might enjoy the hair accessories.”

He furrowed his brow, humming before looking back up, meeting each of his sibling’s eyes in turn, “but please, try to enjoy yourselves. You work a great deal. Just because I need to be on duty the entire time… It doesn’t mean you need to work, as well.” 

He watched all three of them, Elise smiling broadly as she leaned into his shoulder and wrapped her arms tightly around him, stretching as far as they would go. Leo nodded, his expression concerned, but filled with the quiet fondness Xander remembered so well from his childhood, and Camilla… Camilla only smiled knowingly, nodding at him in quiet, mature acknowledgement. 

“Thank you,” he said with a soft sigh. “I appreciate you all being here. If you discover anything, hear anything on the lips of the delegate’s entourages…” 

“We’ll tell you,” Leo replied with a firm nod, “as always. You can trust us, Xander.”

Ripping his bread in two, listening to the sound of the crust tearing, Xander smiled. 

“I know,” he said, and dreamed of a world where his siblings were no longer his agents, where the could finally simply be themselves. 

In his heart, he wondered if such a world could ever truly exist. 


End file.
